


life's not a fairytale

by pl600titties



Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: M/M, Smut, an incredible amount of pheacker, i just want a place to drop all my ideas okok, i'll put in some fluff eventually, lots of smut, maybe some angst here and there
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-06
Updated: 2018-02-06
Packaged: 2019-03-14 17:15:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13594683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pl600titties/pseuds/pl600titties
Summary: [ title is a lyric from Like Lovers Do by Hey Violet ]all pheacker drabblesthat's literally it





	life's not a fairytale

“I’m not sure if you know what you’re doing.” George said slowly, his words laced with trepidation. His eyes gleamed with a special sort of want that Philip felt, stirring in the bottom of his gut and pooling between his legs. He felt hot, his mouth was dry as sandpaper and his tongue scraped against the side of his mouth. 

“I know exactly what I’m doing.” Philip replied in a haughty tone, leaning in. His eyelashes fluttered and his lower lip quivered.  “And I’m going to keep doing it.” 

“Not opposed to that.” George’s smooth, low tones made Philip weak in the knees, and he had to lean against him for support. He slid his hands across George’s chest, wrapping them around his neck and tugging him down enough for George to plant a kiss upon his lips. He reached up with a desperate whine, tilting his head forward in a quiet plea for more. “Aren’t you worried about your father?”

Philip grinned, tipping his head back and pressing up against him. George lifted him up like he was weightless, carrying him towards the bedroom. “My father can’t tell me what to do.” He whispered breathlessly, his lips carrying a passage for something that George was quite ready to explore. “And if he doesn’t know I’m doing it, what’s the harm?” 

The next thing he knew, his back slammed against the sparsely cushioned mattress of George’s bed. The springs shrieked in protest, but any other noises were quickly muted when George smashed their lips together and everything drifted away. 

He knew this was wrong, he knew that this irresistible feeling was something he should push away at first sight.    
He knew the moment George’s hands deftly unbuttoned his coat and ripped off his cravat, knew the moment that those cool hands slid up his undershirt and made him shudder. He knew every moment of this was wrong, and he knew it almost as well as he knew the feeling of George’s lips on his. 

But that didn’t stop him from wanting, no, needing more. He hungrily took everything George was willing to offer, every kiss and touch that George lavished upon his body. He let George tear his clothes from his body, relished in the sound of ripping fabric and popping buttons. He had no idea how he was going to explain any of the rips and tears to his parents, but hell, he could always say he got in a fight. 

A fight was very much what it was, in a way.

The lovemaking aspect of it was certainly still there, but there was no affection in the way their teeth knocked together, the way Philip sank his teeth into George’s neck and George yanked a fistful of his hair in return. Neither of them were any stranger to intimacy, that was for certain, but Philip wasn’t used to being in the position that he was. Wasn’t used to someone hovering above him, wasn’t used to having his wrists pinned above his head and his legs forcefully spread. He couldn’t say he didn’t love every minute of it, though. 

He gasped sharply when George’s teeth scraped against his neck, shuddered and trembled when his breeches were torn off of him. A few hot seconds of ripping, tearing, kissing and biting passed, and soon Philip found himself completely exposed. The only thing left of George’s were his breeches, and it didn’t take a second glance for Philip to see the way George’s cock pressed against the fabric, waiting to be freed. 

George’s rough, calloused hands travelled up and down his body, fluttering across his sides and tracing faint patterns in the line of his hips. A soft, impertinent whine crawled its way out of Philip’s throat, and he bucked his hips up, craving some kind of touch. One of George’s hands pushed them down against the mattress, and he bucked and twitched. He was only allowed the occasional faint, quick jerk of his hips before George would pin him down again. He whined again. 

“What’s that, again?” George’s voice had descended into a low, smooth purr. 

“George, please--” Philip breathed out a quiet plea, his pupils blown wide and his hair a mess. “I need--Ah..” 

“Tell me what you need.” He replied, his eyes roaming across Philip’s body where his hands weren’t already. A whimper sounded in the back of Philip’s throat, and his face burned with shame, but he managed to get out the words. 

“I need you, need you..Touch me, fuck me, I don’t care what you do, just--” His hips moved forward of their own accord. “Just do something..I’ll be good, I’ll be good, please..” He looked up at George, his eyes soft and pleading and desperate. His breaths were slow, and shallow, and he hoped with every ounce of his being that he looked desperate enough. 

George only gave a slow, approving nod, leaning in and planting a brief kiss to his lips. Philip arched his back and slid up against George, needing more than that. 

George simply chuckled. “I’ll give you what you want. Two conditions.” Philip knew better than to complain. “Don’t cum, and don’t move. You can make any sound, but I might be compelled to go slower if you do.”    
Didn’t that count as three? 

Philip didn’t have time to think about that. He opened his mouth to say something, but whatever it was got lost. His voice crescendoed into a high-pitched moan and he dug his nails into the sheets as George’s tongue rolled around the head of his cock with undeniable experience. 

When he angled his hips so George could take in more of him, the older male paused and wouldn’t continue until Philip got back into his original position with a pathetic whine. And he had to bite into a pillow just to stifle his moans, although he couldn’t silence them altogether. 

This would be a long night. 


End file.
